


Omegle Prompt Dump

by TheAllShipperKAZ2Y5



Category: Pretty much all fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:31:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 10,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllShipperKAZ2Y5/pseuds/TheAllShipperKAZ2Y5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically all prompts I've written for myself or for others to use.<br/>Feel free to use them too, however please credit me at the start. Or just put 'not mine'. <br/>All different fandoms and pairings. And if you want a custom prompt, just shoot me a message or put a comment down.<br/>The fandom the prompt is part of will be the title of the chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Direction

((Famous!Chef!Harry / SlightlyOlder!HighlyFamous!Other, Your character can already have a relationship or not, it's up to you. Sorry for the length! ))

17 BLACK was the an A-List restaurant that catered to the famous and wealthy, originating from a small little thing in Lourdes, France, to two main bases. One in Paris, and one in London. It's interior was gorgeous, extravagant, black-white-gold like something from a Palace. It's famous stag-head-and-poker-chip-logo adorning the entrance doors. It was the business-child of Harry Styles, one of the most famous chefs to ever start setting fire to vegetables and glazing meats. He was British-French, swapping between the countries right up until he was 20 and settled in the London-based 17 BLACK, serving the obnoxiously rich and the sweetly famous. Harry liked to serve his guests himself, catered to his clients specifically and now was no different when he was called from where he was watching flames lick at marinated lamb shanks, told that table 12 had just been filled and he checked himself in the mirror. Tight, black short-sleeved button up. Tight black skinny jeans, white bow-tie. He liked to cook in casual clothes, liked how it felt. He was wearing his signature dimpled grin when he rounded a corner to where table 12 was nestled, a couples table, he was wholly unprepared for when he turned the corner and was met with the most gorgeous man he'd ever laid eyes on, stunningly beautiful with sharp cheekbones and gorgeous eyes and hair in a luscious style straight from the latest Top-Ten style magazine. His greeting died in his throat and he nearly tripped over himself, managed to give a breathless smile. "Hii, m'name is Harry Styles and I'm your chef for tonight" he greeted, crossed his arms behind his back lest he try to pounce the man.


	2. Supernatural

((Storyline AU, 17!Sam, John is already dead. Most of it is background if you want to skip that, only the last four lines are where you character comes in :)))  
Sam Winchester was taken when he was 11. The Demon Azazel had waited patiently until a night when John Winchester had left his boys in favour of the local bar, stole silently into the motel room and cursed Dean into a deep sleep until dawn, when he'd long be gone. For the first five minutes he'd let Sam fight, let him scream for his brother who slept blissfully on in the bed, just out of reach. And then he had knocked Sam on the head, dazed him enough to bind him and taken him away, all the while the child crying for Dean. And for three and a half years after that, Sam had been living in Azazel's personal playground. An eleven, then twelve, then thirteen, then fifteen year old child fighting every second of the day and night for his life. It was a stab to the back that got him out. His guard slipped for one moment and they left him for dead, Azazel's "What a pity. He was my favourite. The Chosen One" ringing in his ears. But it had shown him the door, the way out and he'd crawled through it, into the real world. He'd gone to a shack a few miles out from a town, a place he remembered someone telling him about. A safe house. And for the next two and a half years he lived there. He earned food by growing or hunting it, earnt money by sometimes walking to the town and doing odd jobs. Mowing old ladies' lawns or running errands for shop owners. He'd nearly forgotten about his family, nearly forgotten about Dean and John and Bobby until his salt store got destroyed by a leak during a rainy day in the kitchen that turned it all to a frothy paste. And it was as he was in the town, arms full of salt cans and head down that he heard squealing brakes, felt a sharp pain from his right side to his ankle and he hit the ground, groaned and pushed himself up to find himself nose-to-nose with a familiar KAZ 2Y5 license plate and chrome grille that memories froze him to the spot, no matter how much he wanted to run.


	3. Teen Wolf

((Sort of Game of Thrones AU. Stiles is like Oliver. In other words a cheeky whore who only caters to the rich and powerful. The 'brothel' looks sort of like a small palace. Very luxurious and private. Large rooms. Owned by Christian Argent. Same era. Kings and such.))  
He'd been lazing on the balcony of his chamber when the door opened, a wide sash of silk draped over one shoulder and fluttering around his thighs in a poor excuse for clothing. Though really, he was a whore. He had no use for clothes anyway. Beacon Hills was warm this time of summer, hot breezes blowing from the East. He heard the heavy mahogany swing open, the soft drag of it's frilly sweep on the stone floor and he turned, cast his visitors a sunny smile. "This is Stiles. Our only male whore. You'll find him very talented. And discreet" Mr.Argent assured his client, as Stiles practically purred as he came over, let his fingertips dance over the fine fur cloak that adorned broad, muscled shoulders. And sweet summers, /what a man/ this one was. "You'll not hear a word from me" he promised, nodding sincerely. Mr.Argent patted him on the head, as though praising some common mutt, before winking at the obviously wealthy man and leaving. Stiles turned his smile coy. "And what brings a man as noble as yourself to a place like this?" he asked, fingers working smoothly at the leather strings that tied the mans cloak to his shirt.


	4. Hemlock Grove

Roman wondered often, how much of the wolf was inside Peter. And how much of Peter was inside the wolf. It had always fascinated him. And not just because of the blood. The death. The gore. Not just because it was Peter, ripping and tearing between skins. He'd always wondered. And now that Peter could change on will without becoming a Vargulf...It had given him confidence. So he planned. For a week before the full moon he'd run through the forest, tore off strips of old shirts and left them in a trail to a clearing. He'd hung around Peter, embedded himself even more in Peter's mind. The wolfs mind. And then he'd waited, on the night of the full moon. Hands and knees in the dirt, naked save for shorts so the wolf could smell him. And the wolf had come. Peter had come. Prowling through the trees, stinking of blood and flesh. Roman looked up at the wolf, gave it a cocky grin and a tip of his head and it lowered it's muzzle towards him, opened it's huge jaws wide and after a few seconds a hand, half an arm, bloody and shaking reached forwards and stroked a fingertip across his mouth, leaving a bloodtrail. Roman licked it off with a grin. "Shee-it, Peter" he huffed, licking it off slowly.


	5. Teen Wolf / Supernatural / One Direction / Five Seconds of Summer

[https://31.media.tumblr.com/558249e9ff5447bcb4ec80fd55a5da90/tumblr_n2iqqposbp1tvitnfo1_500.gif]  
He'd always thought about it. Had tons of porn hidden in a folder with some bullshit homework title. He thought about it on nights he had the house to himself, on his knees on his bed with his chest against the sheets, head turned sideways on his pillow and both hands reaching back, spreading his cheeks and thrusting fingers deep inside himself. When he went to the Jungle, with guys rolling their hips against his ass, dicks riding the slow curve. He wanted to be on his hands and knees, wanted his thighs and arms to tremble and burn as he fucked back onto a cock. It was the only thing on his mind as he shoved his fingers deeper, twisted his wrist and yelped as he stabbed at his prostate, fingertips gliding over it. He was writhing, panting so hard and focused on the pleasure so much he missed the noise of entry, the fact he was no longer alone. 


	6. One Direction

[https://38.media.tumblr.com/850f2bbf1330230ab939c3f3858ef603/tumblr_nlcqkzA9Q41sk816ro1_500.gif]  
It was electric in the room. The air heavy, thick with the smoke a burning out joint was coating the room in from the bedside table. The sound of the sea, washing against a shore not too far away mingled with panted breaths, low and husky moans that vibrated through the two boys nestled in their bubble of safety. Harry put his hand on the headboard for a second, stopped his movements as he panted, caught his breath. Replaced oxygen with the joint, drew in a dragging breath and put his hands back on Zayn's hips, lowered his head to kiss him, blow the smoke into his mouth, moaning as Zayn shoved his hips up almost impatiently. "F-Fuck" he gasped into Zayn's mouth, gripping at him as he raised his head slowly, savoured it. "There". 


	7. 5 Seconds of Summer

https://33.media.tumblr.com/a0ff9899a23e5a7d934bc34b48cc5512/tumblr_nlcavsHjFh1srq5beo1_500.gif]  
Michael yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen, head low and cream hair hanging in his eyes. He'd decided to grow it out a little, silky fringe flopping in his eyes as he walked. It was one of those rare days that he had his boyfriend got to spend together, a slow lazy morning they usually didn't have time for. Too busy with concerts, studio meets, recordings. He set the bacon to fry, leaning on the counter as he poked at it idly. The combination of sleepiness and the sizzle of bacon meant he didn't hear the footsteps, didn't know his boyfriend was there until warm, large hands were on the upper curve of his ass, cupping the firm, round flesh as they slid his shorts down slowly. He chuckled, even as he gripped the counter, spread his legs a little. "Good morning to you too". 


	8. Teen Wolf

[Based on this: https://38.media.tumblr.com/abf08f96ab8dacdd67a6b15e341f8d91/tumblr_n6g00v3whd1rhdk3do1_500.gif]  
Stiles knew that his relationship with his Uncle had always been...Different. Even from a young age that was obvious. He'd always asked to go over Uncle Peter's. Always said his Uncle's special games were better than the games his Dad played. Always wanted to hold Peter's hand and sit in Peter's lap rather than his Dad's. That hadn't changed a bit. He was always going over Peter's on weekends, staying there on holidays and such. Still holding his hand and sitting in his lap, doing whatever his Uncle told him to and relishing in the rare praise that often came in biting insults. It was summer, now, the beginning of six weeks off and Stiles was lounging in his room at his Uncle's place, waiting for him to get home. Beneath the bedsheet he wore nothing more than shorty-shorts and a shirt, one of Peter's old ones. He heard the door to his bedroom open, skin prickling as he turned. Peter was loosening his tie, taking a seat in the sturdy chair by the end of the bed and Stiles grinned, heaved himself up and strode across the bed, jumped down and onto Peter's lap. "Good day at work, Uncle Peter?" he asked, reached up to help him untuck his tie. 


	9. Hemlock Grove

[https://38.media.tumblr.com/d37eac73322aaf180b921b38aac57202/tumblr_nm3rmhfWhq1sxhdaxo1_500.gif]  
Nothing about either of them was gentle. They were both blood, danger, death. Fighting and anger and brutality. It showed in every day life. Especially now. The two boys fighting on the bedding, rolling and twisting as Roman sunk his teeth into Peter's shoulder, nails digging into his biceps and Peter twisted in his grip, grabbed his thigh with enough force to bruise and yanked it over his hip, brutally slamming his cock deeper inside the Upir. Roman's usually perfect quiff was a wreck, hair flopping in his eyes. Blood coated his mouth as they wrestled together and Roman moaned as Peter grabbed at his ass, bit harder and lapped up the juices as he yanked hard at Peter's hair. The Upir was close, so close he could taste it. 


	10. One Direction

[https://33.media.tumblr.com/7a9a63c66e6abf2031179be9bbeae89c/tumblr_mwsbogWJcx1sfemcro1_400.gif]  
((Mild Puppy Play. Pup!Harry. All kinks welcome))

The clock kept ticking. On the second every second, ticking away. Harry glowered at it, but time didn't move any faster. He heaved a deep sigh, dropping his head. Louis wouldn't be back for another fifteen minutes yet. The Pup didn't quite know what to do with himself. Louis had tied him up, leash looped around the radiator by the front door, long enough that he could bend his head to eat, drink and sleep but that was it. No moving. His tail, thick and fluffy hung from it's plug, soft against the backs of his thighs. Time kept ticking. Harry was nearly asleep by the time he heard the key in the lock and then he shot up, so much so he choked himself straining against the tight leash, the collar around his neck and he made a weird hiccuping yelping noise as he strained to get closer to where the door was opening. 


	11. Teen Wolf

[Based on this: https://33.media.tumblr.com/afc28767b0d28cd8524e9fedf5a80fdb/tumblr_no20jc2GMB1s1q0a2o1_500.gif]  
((Teen!Derek. Bottom, but can be quite a bossy, shoving-around one. Sort of Topping-from-the-bottom I guess. Is also subby at times though))  
It's been a week since Derek opened his eyes in the middle of a desert, with no memory of anyone around him. A week since that Stiles guy, a year older than his 'current' self came up, took him by the arm and said all that stuff about trust. Family and something about 'Ohana'. A week of Stiles tossing off /every damned night/. Derek could appreciate alone time, but how the guy didn't get friction burn he had no idea. It also left him frustrated, extremely sexually frustrated and finally, /finally/ for one blessed day Stiles had to go on a school trip, cursed and swore all the day before that it was far too late to sign Derek up for it so he could keep an eye on him. Derek bounced down onto Stiles' bed, naturally drawn to the scent of the other teen as he hitched up a leg, reached behind himself as he rubbed against the pillows, slid two fingers in. It burned in a delicious way and he left them there for a moment, whining. Half an hour later and he was on the edge of orgasm, mewling into Stiles' pillow as he fucks back onto his own four fingers and then. And then there was a bang, scattering that startled him to freeze a second too long and Stiles was suddenly in the doorway and Derek ripped his hand away like he'd been burnt. "Stiles!" he barked, eyes wide and cheeks scarlet. 


	12. Teen Wolf

[https://33.media.tumblr.com/85b0cb0bc535ae1418270c825a413437/tumblr_no20mgZhXd1s1q0a2o1_500.gif]  
When he got the job working for the oldest Mr.Hale, Stiles had been ecstatic. He hadn't thought he'd get it. When he got there for the interview everyone was older. More polished. Werewolves. Yet he'd barely had time to straighten his tie as he sat down before Peter Hale himself was coming out of his office, staring down at him with icy eyes and nodding, and just like that Stiles had himself a job. Working for Mr.Hale had it's...Quirks and perks. Like the store of pet names the older man seemed to enjoy addressing his PA by. Stiles didn't mind. He enjoyed them. He also enjoyed the other things his job entailed. Like enduring an hour long meeting on his knees under Peter's desk, choking his cock down silently. He'd just gotten a message over the Intercom, Mr.Hale requesting him in his office and he chewed his pen as he stood, hurried across the hall. (Peter gave him an office in full view of his own. Stiles knew why). He knocked before slipping through, snicking the door shut and turning to face his boss. "Yes, Sir?" he asked, head tilting a little, smiling sweetly. 


	13. Supernatural

Castiel was a skinwalker. His second pelt that of a black wolf. And he supposed you could call him security. Insurance. He sat at the heels of the most dangerous outlaw in America, and he saw to the runts that pushed their luck. Some drawled one-liner against the rim of a whiskey glass and the wolf lunged. And the man would get what he was owed in money or blood. Sometimes both. Nobody bar the man, the Winchester brother, knew what he was. Only Dean Winchester knew that the man who was sometimes seen around the mansion was the same being as the wolf who tore the throats from men who demanded too much. Tonight was no different. The wolf sat besides the extravagant chair the mobster sat on, his head low and canines bared at the man who stood before them. He was waiting for the command. The quip or one-liner or hand-signal that meant it was time to go to work. Dean seemed content to listen to this mewling quims pathetic excuses.  
"I swear, I didn't know there was guys waiting there. I did everything you said. I went to go get the money but they was waitin' for us. They had guns. Dogs -smaller'n your 'un but just as nasty- and the like. We were outnumbered" the man pleaded. Castiel growled a little lower, licked at his front canines. 


	14. One Direction [Lirry only]

[Inspired by these: (Enjoy! ;P)  
https://33.media.tumblr.com/6c7243b4c5e92ade8a2d36bb4d9e73a1/tumblr_ncbyrcYH1F1sr8ofxo4_250.gif  
https://31.media.tumblr.com/32b3fb956e77d3ce584d78041cafa8d6/tumblr_mk8awoztoS1qm9g78o1_500.gif  
http://media.giphy.com/media/uDf4t1gjVfFWo/giphy.gif  
http://24.media.tumblr.com/33f8fad2dd517230573abca2f96a8f52/tumblr_mrl9t9fefL1rf1t9yo1_500.gif  
http://media.giphy.com/media/PZ4uHBgeRFDHO/giphy.gif  
http://media.giphy.com/media/9aiZrseNLWXra/giphy.gif  
http://media.giphy.com/media/k2nqpCJwjCXsc/giphy.gif  
http://media.giphy.com/media/OeBOvcMSijSCI/giphy.gif  
https://33.media.tumblr.com/7858e1ec90ac0884649eeb82c981c102/tumblr_ndgq3tcbL61s71iwko1_250.gif  
https://38.media.tumblr.com/37670015a7f68ad82f3b239bd8dd8bf8/tumblr_nm0zxtwWLD1thqcuao1_r1_500.gif  
https://33.media.tumblr.com/b903416e93a1d41a94e1193d8f0dbce4/tumblr_nm0zxtwWLD1thqcuao2_r1_500.gif]

 

((For the inspiration GIFS, click here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3926422/chapters/9241074))

Harry knew Liam did it on purpose. Knew he left himself open for it. Relished in it. Lived for the times on stage, high on adrenaline, the feeling of that muscular body pressing up behind him, knowing who it was by touch. It had Harry on a live wire the rest of the night. Searching out those from-behind hugs, the times Liam would grind against him during deep bass songs. When he'd lean in like he was going to kiss him, turn away at the very last second. He was driving him insane in the best way possible. This was no different, Harry tossing his head back, flinging his arms open only to back into something -some/one/- solid and warm, crotch pressed against his ass, arms wrapped tight around his hips and chin on his shoulder before Liam was gone again, leaving Harry panting in his wake, and not from singing. After the encore, running off stage high on endorphins, hair flying and tearing off his mic and in-ears, Harry barely gave Liam time to toss his own gear aside before he was grabbing him, shoving him through into the tiny backstage dressing-room. Both of them were panting, sweaty, wild-eyed and loose-clothed and Harry flattened Liam up against the wall, slung a leg over his hip and nuzzled up against his throat, one hand coming to rest on the heaving expanse of Liam's abs. "You gotta stop doing this" he whined against his skin, gripping his shirt tight. 


	15. One Direction [Lirry]

[Inspired by this: https://41.media.tumblr.com/dfad75e4c86b91baa33c2d9412eaf8f4/tumblr_nedat73B301t4vvono1_500.jpg]  
((Harry is nineteen in this, Sort of punk-hipster. Liam is a bit older, but other than that totally your character to create! He's a werewolf though, and his form is the same size and colour as it is in the picture. Harry is human. You can decide if they know each other, if the relationship is established ect.))

Harry dumped his backpack down on the edge of the large rock he sat on, the clearing around him quiet and peaceful. This was his little sanctuary. As far as he knew, nobody came here bar him. Well, he'd never seen anyone else here other than the rabbit he saw last week. But a rabbit didn't count. He took a moment to breathe in the fresh forest air before he reached down, took out the little joint of beef he'd brought with him and the little knife and plate and set them on the rock. He was about to get out the salad he'd also brought when twigs snapping somewhere ahead caught his attention. Curious, he slunk off through the trees to investigate, but after a few minutes of wandering around found nothing, and so he returned back to his little secret place. He brushed the leaves out of his way, looking forwards to just snacking in peace and- "Hey!" he barked. His food was /gone/. Jogging over to the rock he bent over, hands on his knees as he stared at the knocked over pot his meat had been in. "Son of a bitch" he muttered to himself, reaching for the pot when there was a puff of hot, moist air on the back of his neck and he froze, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck. Whatever you are, please don't eat me" he mumbled. 


	16. One Direction

[Hybrid!AU, GiantMaineCoon!Harry, your character can be a Hybrid too. Hybrids are known and while not rare, are fairly uncommon. You can decide if they're still in a band/famous or not :) Hybrids can talk and think and act normally, but share some traits with their breed. For example dog hybrids are more excited, energetic people]

Harry opened his eyes slowly, head pounding. Naturally, hybrids had less of an alcohol tolerance than humans, and he could barely remember last night. They were celebrating Niall's birthday, had gone out on a typical club-crawl and the last thing Harry remembered was shots with Liam and Louis. Dragging himself from his warm nest of blankets he made his way into the bathroom, brushed his teeth and had a glass of water and stood, turning. He was walking past the full-length mirror in his room when he caught side of himself, and he gave a loud, long yowl of anguish and horror. His ears! His tail! Grabbing at the large, overly fluffy appendage he stared at it before letting go, reaching up to gingerly pat his ears. They were a bright, baby blue colour rather than the usual mix of browns. 


	17. One Direction

[Inspiration: http://33.media.tumblr.com/e190d36689f648ab6fe17dda3f904aff/tumblr_n0mx02kiQh1re1ieao1_500.gif]  
He was trying to be quiet. Really. Unlike his bandmates, he didn't see the rare times they had time to toss off as a chance to keep everyone else awake. Harry was extremely sensitive, especially prostate-wise and he got /loud/. Biting into his pillow to muffle his moans, he shuffled on his knees a little, writhing in his bedding. He was sharing a hotel room with one of the boys but they'd all gone out for dinner. He'd begged off claiming sick, but he was far from sick, on his forearms and knees with a six by two inch toy buried to his sweet spot. Jolting at the slightest movement of it, he lifted his head a little, the loud moan that dropped off his tongue covering the soft snap of the door sliding open. 


	18. Teen Wolf

[Jurassic World AU / Dinosaurs: http://makingboyscry.tumblr.com/post/122170867479/fyjurassicworld-dinosaurs-in-the-jurassic-park / Stiles looks after/feeds the Mosasaur and the T-Rex and works with the Raptors / Your character can be anything you like]

Tugging on the straps to make sure they were tight, Stiles took out a switch-blade and made a small cut on the body of the shark, enough to let blood dribble down and drip into the water to alert the Mosasaur of it's foods presence. Satisfied, he slammed a hand onto the button and jogged back down the steps as the shark begun to glide out on the crane to the center of the water. He'd learnt the first few times to get under cover unless he wanted to be soaked, and just as he slid into the clear plastic tent the Mosasaur -Named Toretto because he was a Fast & Furious geek- exploded from the water, huge jaws snapping around it before it dropped back into the water to devour it's meal.  That task done, Stiles jogged back up, pressed the button to bring the crane back in and returned to the meat house, waiting patiently as a large hunk of hide was dumped onto the back of one of the transport trucks before he drove it to gate 9. According to anyone bar him, the vet team and the owners of the ark gate 9 was empty. Stiles, of course, knew the truth. Behind that gate was the last living relic from the original Jurassic Park. The Tyrannosaurus Rex. They'd hunted it for an entire week before managing to capture it, and now it was hidden here. He rounded the corner that led to gate 9, and stamped on the brakes when he saw a figure standing in front of the gate, facing him, arms folded in what certainly wasn't a happy gesture. Heart hammering because only he ever came to gate 9, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, voice nervous. "Um...You can't be here. Gate 9 is off limits to anyone without level 10 clearance."


	19. Hemlock Grove

[Werewolves can turn on any moon without becoming a Vargulf]

Roman gained consciousness slowly.  And when he did he became aware of several things. One was that every so often a puff of air would warm his face with a soft grunting sound in accompaniment. Secondly was his front was warm. Boiling, even. Thirdly was the bed around him was dipped in places, by his shoulders and his hips and when he opened his eyes he found himself staring into pools of glowing yellow. He squinted when the wolf huffed another breath and reached up, rubbing the backs of the hands over his eyes with a soft sound of displeasure. "Peter?" he asked, attempting to sit up. However the giant wolf only allowed him as far as his elbows before they were nose to nose and it refused to move back and allow him room. "Dude. What the fuck?" he asked, voice rough and husky with sleep, his floppy hair hanging cutely over one brow. 


	20. One Direction [Lirry]

[Liam is marrying Sophia. Harry's secretly but obviously in love with him.]

So. I didn't know what to get you as your engagement present. But uh. Will these do? -HS  
[http://oyster.ignimgs.com/wordpress/stg.ign.com/2012/07/the-batmobile-special-img.jpg] -HS

**/**

[Liam is engaged to Sophia. Harry's been in love with him for years, and coped by hiding out in his LA house. End-Game Lirry.]  
It was a month since Liam had announced his engagement to Sophia, and a month since Harry had seen any of his bandmates. As soon as appropriate, he'd taken a midnight flight to L.A and hid in his secluded mansion to console himself with 'what if's and bottles of alcohol and nights spent lounging in his pool or driving down dirt roads in the moonlight. He'd never expected anything. Their not-often hook ups had stopped about a month into Liam dating Sophia. And Liam had avoided him like the plague for a whole week after they got insanely drunk at Niall's birthday party and ended up fooling around in the bathroom. As far as the world was concerned Harry Styles had gone to LA and promptly vanished. Only two months later to turn back up at his London flat. Louis had been the first to march up to his doorstep, all threats and hugs and shoulder-slaps. Niall and Zayn had been next, quieter but just as concerned and hurt. Liam had been last, looking more tanned and more gorgeous than ever, hair a tiny bit longer, grin that little brighter with a ring on his finger. And Harry had turned tail and fled again that very night. They were on a few months break from Touring and recording, so he had nothing to worry about. Another month and one heartbroken tattoo he kept hidden later and he was tucked up in bed, sleeping soundly, curls pushed back from his eyes. The bed jostling woke him up and he snuffled, mumbling a near incoherent "Go away, cat" until he realized there was arms around around his waist and breath on the back of his neck and he didn't own a cat. He was about to explode out from under the covers when he looked down, caught sight of the arm and groaned. "Liam?" he asked blearily, twisting a little to find it was in fact his bandmate. 


	21. One Direction

**Zianourry**

[Harry is a ghost. However, he's not physically dead. His body is in a coma at the hospital. Rather than being trapped in the hospital he was trapped in his own home because his parents wrapped his necklace around his bedpost. Non-Famous AU. They all live in one house together. They will start to see him halfway through playing the ouija board.]

Harry was dead. Or rather, he wasn't dead. He didn't know. All he remembered was the crash, the brief flicker of paramedics putting a breathing mask on and then, well. Then he'd opened his eyes to find himself back at home, in bed. It hadn't taken long to figure out he was a ghost. Spirit. Whatever. And life had sucked for a while, yeah. Until the boys had moved in. And it miffed him off, of course, that his parents had rented out his house. Considering he was apparently actually at a hospital, able to drift between where his body was and his house. It drained his energy though, left him week for days when he did it. But anyway. The boys. Apparently he was a proper shit ghost, because not even a week after settling they were complaining and -get this- actually buying a ouija board. It had been fun, all things considered. He'd messed them around a bit. Watched them accuse each other of pushing the looking glass around. Then they'd freaked, and left it at that. Until about a month later when Harry was walking through the hall onto to step back, double-take. The boys were in the living room again, curtains drawn and hands on the ouija board. Harry rolled his eyes, strolling in as the Irish one begun to chant. "Harry, Harry. Are you here?". The short sassy one whacked him on the head, eyes rolling. The banter broke out for a solid five minutes before they all settled again, glowering at each other until they asked in unison after a count down "Is anyone here?". He stepped up behind Liam, the tallest of the group who always seemed to wear a tank top, leaning over his shoulder and reaching down to nudge the looking glass over the 'YES' word. The short one, Louis, looked uncertainly around the group, and Harry grinned, looking around them all slowly, before nudging the looking glass over to the question mark. Niall's brows furrowed, and Louis shot another doubtful glare at his friends. Harry admired his spit-fire personality. 

**Any**

[Harry is a ghost. However, he's not physically dead. His body is in a coma at the hospital. Rather than being trapped in the hospital he bounces between there and his own home because his parents wrapped his necklace around his bedpost. Non-Famous AU. His parents started to rent out his house because they hated seeing it empty. They will start to see him halfway through playing the ouija board.]

Harry, apparently, was a shit ghost. He knew he was a ghost. That was obvious. He remembered the car crash, the piece of car going right through him, remembered the paramedics cutting him out, putting an oxygen mask over him. How did he remember all that? Well for everything up until the oxygen mask he'd been standing right next to the car, watching. Then he'd been back in his own body, looking through his own eyes as they put the mask on. And then...Then he'd opened his eyes and he was back home, in bed. Figuring out he was a ghost from there was easy. Next he learnt how to bounce between his house and his hospital room, something he rarely did because it drained him of energy. Mostly he just wandered around, observing and poking things. Anyway. The point was, he was a ghost and a shit one. Why was he a shit one? Because not a week after his parents had tearfully rented out his house, and not a week after the man had moved in, Harry had over-heard his new house companion on the phone to someone, frantically trying to explain he thought his new house was haunted. Harry'd been a bit miffed. He'd thought he was an awesome ghost. But apparently not, because as he was walking through the downstairs hall he noticed the flicker of a candle in the dark living room, and when he did a double-take his housemate was there, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a...A ouija board. Snorting, Harry shrugged. "Alright. I'll bite" he murmured to himself over the man's loud questioning of company. Mindful of the candles littered around, Harry took a seat crosslegged opposite the man. He took a moment to study him. God, he was beautiful. Then he reached down, focused hard and nudged the looking glass over the 'YES' word, slowly. When he got it there, he looked up. 

 


	22. One Direction

[Based off a fic. Harry is an Omega, but not at all like an Omega so everyone thinks he's an Alpha. He wears scent blockers to hide his Omega scent. We can do this over email if you prefer. If you want this to be Zarry just pretend instead of Zayn it's Niall :) Please keep in mind this is endgame relationship with Harry.]

Omegas were /supposed/ to be small, curvy, obedient. They were supposed to be elegant and sweet-spoken, Out of all those things, Harry was only obedient. He was tall and lanky, but his muscle was lithe rather than bulky so he at least retained a slender form. He wasn't curvy. He was clumsy, floppy, he spoke slowly and had a deep voice, and when he wore a scent blocking spray, everyone mistook him for an Alpha. So much so he'd given up on finding an Alpha to bond with. Every Alpha he did meet politely declined with 'Sorry, I don't date other Alpha's' and when he told them he was an Omega they were so uncomfortable or embarrassed they all but fled.

So he did the only thing he could do. Became the 'Alpha' wing-man to his other Omega friend, Zayn. Who, for the record, was drop-dead gorgeous. And today, that's exactly what he's doing, schlepping over miserably to an Alpha at the bar Zayn had been too hot for to go up himself. "Hiii, I was just wondering if-" before he'd even finished the Alpha was shaking his head apologetically, a gentle "I'm sorry, mate, I'm not into Alphas" let down that Harry expected but not so soon, and he flustered, because the guy was hot as hell and smelt so good. He nearly forgot his task, until he was practically falling over himself to point out Zayn. "No, no. I'm his friend. He was too shy to ask himself. He wants to know if you'll join us for drinks?".


	23. Teen Wolf

[YoungerBrother!Stiles. Peter regularly cums on him/feeds Stiles his cum without Stiles realizing. Last night he came in Stiles' mouth as he slept.]

I think I have an issue, but I'm too embarrassed to go to Dad about it. -SS


	24. Teen Wolf

Hey, sparky. If you're done playing tonsil hockey with Lydia you might want to come to the old library. I think I found out what you are and why you survived being lit up like the 4th of July in the parking lot. -SS


	25. Teen Wolf

Stiles was dead. At least, temporarily. Or...He thought he was dead. He didn't know anymore. It was all pretty confusing after he blew himself up to save everyone else. It all got a little hazy after the point where he noticed the bomb of magical doom, an threw himself at it before it could blow them all to hell. And now, seemingly, he was dead. And...If this was death, it sucked. He'd opened his eyes to find himself in a white, blinding room that never seemed to end. Spread eagle on the Nemeton. And when he'd sat up, his body had stayed behind.  
As it turns out, sacrificing yourself to the Nemeton had it's benefits. The main one being that the tree stump had decided to keep him alive. His body was being rebuilt from it's very cellular foundations, there in shape and appearance but nothing more than a shell being repaired. Pulsing with energy, full of cracks that alternated their placing. Stiles had ran. Exhausted himself until he gave up, begun to cry and picture his friends, his family. And that's when the door had opened. A literal door leading into the pack loft.   
It had been a shock, of course. The pack in mourning, sitting in a stunned silence only to have a rather transparent but fully coloured Stiles fall out of the hole in the wall Derek seemed allergic to repairing. It had been a frenzy from there, but now it was settled. Deaton and the pack had done extensive research and it turns out the Nemeton was rebuilding Stiles' body for him, and that soon enough he'd be whole and human again. As far as Stiles' father was concerned, Stiles was away on pack business with the still absent twins.  
Stiles sometimes went back to his body, watched in fascination as the Nemeton worked to bring it back to full state. It was where he was now, leaning over himself curiously, when he heard his name being called, the familiar tug back to what he'd deemed 'Reality' and he went back to the doorway, stepped through to wherever the voice was and stepped right through a chest in doing so, blinking before he turned. "Hey. I'm here. Behind you. What's up?".


	26. Teen Wolf

[De-Aged!Derek AU: Derek is de-aged back to an 18 year old but still looks like Ian Nelson. Similar but not canon to the show de-aged Derek timeline.]

Stiles had to admit. When Derek turned up missing again, he hadn't quite expected to find him the way they had. In fact, at first nobody had known it was Derek. Stiles had been walking through the old crypt in that creepy ass town they'd tracked him to and he'd tripped, yelping as he'd fallen /through/ the frail, rotten old floorboards. He'd landed hard on some sort of casket, frosted over and icy to the touch and when he'd recovered, called up that he was fine and used his sleeve to wipe away some frost he'd found himself staring down at another boy. Who'd appeared to be in cyro-sleep. It was only after they took him back to the loft that Peter had walked in and proceeded to confuse them all by demanding what they were doing with his 18 year old Nephew that they realized it was Derek. Derek, who even after being warmed up and checked over by Deaton, still did not wake up. 

Stiles had taken the third shift of watching him, after Deaton, then Scott. He'd wanted the first shift, but Deaton had insisted a series of valid points. It was halfway through that shift that he'd fallen asleep on the second medical table next to the one that Derek was on, sleeping peacefully. In fact, side by side the two looked almost dead. Stiles wasn't sure what had woken him, but he woke with a jolt, sucking in a breath as his eyes snapped open, only for the air to freeze in his lungs when he found himself staring into brilliant blue, glowing eyes, Derek's sharp canines bared at him, breathing coming in growls as the other teen crouched over him, a hand digging claws into the table either side of his head, shoes resting on their toes either side of his thighs. A hunting crouch. Swallowing thickly, Stiles kept his eyes on Derek's, drawing another slow breath. "Derek...It's me. Stiles. Remember?" he asked, voice quiet.

**Peter version:**

Finding a de-aged Peter had not been on Stiles' list of things to do that week. In fact, if he was honest, it would never have been on any list for any time. And yet, there he had been on a peaceful (if you didn't count getting a 'Stiles we don't insult the visiting Sioux Falls Sheriff' lecture off both Parrish, the Sioux Falls Sheriff, and his own Sheriff) day, heading into Derek's loft and heading over to the table to check the papers Derek had left for him to look over when he'd been slammed down over it, cheek hitting the sturdy wood painfully and arms wrenched behind his back. He spared a moment to pull faces at the pain lacing through his body from his face when the person pinning him leant down, mouth against his ear. "Well, well. What do we have here?" a voice purred, oddly familiar in a way he couldn't quite place.

He found himself flipped over until he was facing upwards, the boy above him pressing forwards until Stiles was bent over backwards, eyes wide and mouth agape as the brunet smiled slowly, wolfishly. "Hm, I'd like to sink my teeth into you" the boy growled lightly, and Stiles finally found his mind again, shoving as hard as he could. The boy barely moved, smile turning even wickeder. "Now. Who are you, and why am I in this place, and why does it reek of my Nephew and god knows who else?" and...Wait, what? He baulked, eyes widening more as he ripped his hands away from where they were still pressed against the others chest. "Peter?!" he yelped, eyes widening more. 


	27. Teen Wolf

{Teensie tiny AU, just different in how things went.}  
Stiles drove.  
He took his Jeep, and he drove. Passed the Beacon Hills border and carried on, right across to the mountain he, his Dad and his mom used to camp at when he was little. He kept a pack of wetwipes and some bottles of water in the back seat, stopped once to sleep in an actual bed at a hotel and shower before he carried on. Kept washing his hands, splashing his face to try and get rid of the images. Donovan choking on his own breaths, eyes slowly fading. Theo's gleeful smile as he hauled Stiles up, threw him on the table and told Derek all about it, so smug. Scott, staring at him with...With disgust in his eyes. Words echoing around his mind. 'We can't be...I can't be around someone who can do that, Stiles.' The words rang like bells as he fell out of the Jeep, slammed the door. 'I want to believe you' haunted him as he leant over the boiling hot engine of the Jeep, hands in his hair. 'I don't want you around the pack anymore' cut to the bone as he stood, for hours. At some point he knew someone was watching him. The sun was setting and he lifted his head slowly, let the tears drip down his cheeks as he stared out across the landscape, far below. He drew in a shaking breath. He didn't know who it was. For all he knew it could be Chris Argent, gun the back of his head, ready to put him down like a rabid dog. "I-" his voice was rasped, barely there, cracked halfway through the letter. He coughed, started again. "Don't worry. I'm leaving."


	28. Teen Wolf

In hindsight, the squishy human taking an arrow for the werewolf probably wasn't the best, most logical idea Stiles had ever had. Only he'd panicked. Spotted the hunter last minute on a building rooftop and lunged. It was like a scene from a movie or a cartoon. He'd just jumped. And then there was nothing, really. And he'd blinked, found himself standing there like an idiot. And then he'd looked down at the arrow sticking out just below his sternum and he'd started screaming. And he'd looked up at Scott and Scott was screaming too. Then there was hands on his biceps, werewolves struggling to hold him still, to try and lower him down as he flailed, wild eyed and screaming for them to get it out of him. And funnily enough it hadn't even hurt all that much, adrenaline pumping faster than his pain receptors could register the agony. Then he'd been on the ground, gaze darting everywhere before there was two hands gripping his face and the world rolled, and that was that.  
Until now, when he flung his eyes open, scream already in his throat. Only it wasn't the sky he was looking at. It was a white ceiling. And then a hand was in his hair, another on his cheek and he tore his gaze up, found himself staring into gleaming werewolf eyes and he yelped.


	29. Teen Wolf

{Winter Solider AU, sort of. Derek is basically Bucky, highly trained, always in leather and Kevlar, metal left arm. Stiles is a small mix between Iron Man and Hawkeye. So nothing more than a really intelligent sharp shooter who likes to play with machinery. Don't worry, no power playing here! Basically Stiles' intelligence is spotted by W.O.L.F, and he's been brought to the facility with Derek as his mentor because Derek is pretty much the best in the world.}

Stiles was fuming. Tamping. /Outraged/. Okay. Maybe he was actually secretly nerding out because /oh my god so much tech/ but he was also quite annoyed. Who wouldn't be? He'd woken up to a load of men in suits in his kitchen and now he'd been dragged off here. For no reason.  
Okay. So maybe he'd built a nuclear reactor in his science class when he was 13. And maybe he'd given an old police cruiser meant to be crushed an AI system because he watched too much Knight Rider when he was young. But really, those were not valid reasons to-  
His thought process was cut off, because the door to the room he was in opened, and a rather intimidating man walked in, sharp and crisp in a suit. Stiles instantly scowled, and opened his mouth ready to make these men regret disturbing his saturday morning jerk off, when another person ghosted into the room behind the guy and...Stiles promptly sat back down and shut up.  
Because if Guy One was scary, Guy Two was....All dark smouldering eyes and jawline and huge shoulders and 50 shades of Kevlar. "Stiles. My name is Argent. I'm a leading handler for W.O.L.F; the World Organization of Lethal Federations. I'm sure you're curious as to why you're here?" the man inquired, and Stiles simply scowled harder, folding his arms and giving Argent an almost daring look, before going back to staring straight at the other man, stood straight against the wall, arms straight, eyes fixed straight back on Stiles. After a moment the Agent sighed and raised his hand, making a motion with two closed fingers. Stiles snapped his attention to the Agent, missing when Guy Two begun to move, silently. "What? What was that? What did you do?". 


	30. Marvel

{Any pairing. No AOU but set after Civil War where Bucky proves his loyalty saving both Steve and Tony. Everyone lives in the Avengers tower. Everyone bar Natasha, Sam and Bruce are non-straight.}

  
Bucky was adjusting. Perhaps not instantly, and perhaps not always in a good manner, but he was learning. He felt like a child, or an abused animal, re-learning how to act and live. And it got frustrating sometimes. The Russian Romanov always with her gun by her side. Stark always with one suit glove handy. Barton, always with his bow and arrows close. Although, Barton was the one who seemed to understand him most. Reasoning with the others when Bucky's progress took a step back, staying up at early hours of the morning and talking to him, low and soothing, relating to brain washing and controlling.  
Bucky went for morning runs with Steve and Sam, Sometimes just Steve, because Sam would complain of aches in places he didn't know could ache. He'd sit with as much patience and trust as he could muster and let Stark fiddle with his robotic arm, examine it's technology for as long as he could bear before someone would note his discomfort and shoo Stark away. It was a quiet morning, all things compared.  
He was the first awake and he headed out, winding his way through the various floors of the tower until he was in the designated 'domestic' area, stepping into the kitchen and pulling up short at the figure sat at the table, clearly expectant. Unsure of what to do he tensed, bracing for conflict and scanning the area for other threats and possible weapons, the plates on his metal arm shifting and slotting into different places, ready to absorb impact.


	31. Sterek

{Highschool sort-of AU. Derek has a twin named Roman, who attends public school. Derek is homeschooled. Stiles has become good friends with Roman but doesn't know about Derek, and this is the first time he is visiting the Hale house and the Hale he finds in the kitchen is not Roman. Derek knows barely about Stiles. For the sake of little babyfaces, you can drive at 16. Stiles looks the same as canon but Derek+Roman look like de-aged Derek.}

Pulling the Jeep up to a halt outside the Hale house, Stiles cut the engine and took a moment to stare. Calling it a house was a bit of a lie. It was huge. Two stories, but huge, with a large porch and second floor balconies. He shook his head, giving a soft whistle and hopping out, slamming the door shut behind him. Roman had said to waltz straight in, so cautiously and almost tip-toeing, he did, snicking the door shut and standing in awe. Sounds from what sounded like a kitchen drew him left and he stepped into the doorway of the room. By one of the counters he could see Roman, peeling the wrapping off a large tray of raw mince meat. Oddly, Roman was wearing a leather jacket and seemed taller, bulkier. Before Stiles could open his mouth though Roman was reaching across and picking up a delicate handful of mince meat, popping it into his mouth raw as he turned away. Stiles made a gagging sound and glanced away in disgust before looking back. Roman seemed frozen, hand still by his mouth, staring him out. Suddenly shy, he waved. "Hey, Rome. So uh....Raw meat? Is that like, a thing? And the leather jacket? Is that your at-home thing?" he teased, approaching his friend. He looked....Different. Scowlier, for one.


	32. Sterek - Teen Wolf

{Slightly based off the Albion: The Enchanted Stallion film. Derek is Dag Dia, a shapeshifter who took the form of a Friesian stallion years ago and rescued Prince Stiles from Assassins. Dag Dia is over 100 years old and is something of a legend in Albion, a medieval world where mythical creatures are real. Derek looks like he did in high school when in his human form and can talk via telepathy. More explained as it goes on. Stiles only knows Derek as Dag Dia and does not know he's a shapeshifter. Only that he's a horse who is supposed to be just a fairytale who just saved his life.}

Derek marched on in intent fashion, ears perked and on keen alert for anyone who may be following them. The Prince was upon his back, arms tangled in his floor-length mane and steadfast unconscious. He had passed out not long after Derek had half-galloped half-leapt awkwardly back down the flights of stairs and erupted into the cold night. Now it was early morning, dew soaking his legs as he walked through the forest. Had he not gotten there in time, they may have succeeded in killing the Prince, something that for the fate of Albion's survival could not happen. He lowered his head with a soft nicker and continued, walking steadily until he reached a stream, where he stretched his neck to drink. As he was drinking the weight on his back uttered a soft sound and moved, and he slurped up a mouthful of water before raising and turning his head, rubbing his muzzle over the Prince's face before dribbling the water over him. It was about time he awoke.


	33. Chapter 33

{Slight AU. Derek and Peter are the last surviving Hales. Peter has been missing after vanishing from hospital. The Argents are still hunting down Derek. Sort of a Season 1 AU. Scott isn't yet bitten and Stiles works at the Vet's with him. Derek shifts into a full wolf but can change his size between Twilight sized wolves and large, regular sized wolf and you can decide if he can talk in this form, or use telepathy or anything. Prompt is long just to set it up!}

The call came at about two in the morning, startling Stiles awake so much he fell out of bed, scrambling to find his phone. It was Scott, screaming something frantically down the line at him. He barely caught the words 'big', 'shot', 'vets' and 'now' before the line went dead and he was staggering around his room to get into some clothes. His Dad had a night shift and he spared a second to thank the Gods before he was running out into the fine misty rain and into the Jeep, surely breaking a few road laws in his urgency to get to the vets. The back door was unlocked when he got there and he skidded into the main room, slamming to a halt at what he saw. Four examination tables had been pushed together and were lightly bending under the weight of what was on them. What was on them was a huge, hulking mass of black fur trickling blood everywhere. Scott came bounding around the corner, all but hugging him when he saw him. "Stiles! Thank fuck. You gotta help me. I was out looking for the inhaler I lost during cross country earlier and he- he was there and- there was a gunshot sound and a howl and-" What followed Stiles didn't hear, too busy looking at the beast on the tables. It was only when he caught the tail end of "I have to go, Mom will surely have noticed I'm not there.

Don't die because I love you too much, bye!" And then Scott was gone did he move, lunging for his friend a moment too late. Silence befell the examination room once the door had slammed shut. The only sounds were the rain outside, and the huge half-growled whuffs of breath from the beast. Swallowing hard, Stiles flattened himself against the wall. All he could see was legs and stomach, and so he inched sideways, following the wall until he leant a little and shrieked, jumping away. He'd met the sight of /huge/ gleaming teeth and glowing, bright red eyes. The beast gave an almost annoyed grunting sound and Stiles sucked in a breath, inching sideways again until he and the beast were staring at each other. It was unsettling, staring at what seemed to be a wolf the size of a horse. The sound of dripping blood caught his attention again and he gave a sigh and wince. "Don't suppose you can talk or anything?" He started off hesitantly, reaching for some sterile wipes.


	34. Teen Wolf

{Stiles is a pet-sitter for famous people. Beacon Hills is a popular place for celebrities to get away to. The Hale mansion stands but nobody really knows who owns it (as in, the Hales). Your character's PA heard about Stiles and contacted him, but didn't tell him who he'd be pet sitting for, only an address. Your character can be famous for anything you'd like, but is home fairly regularly.}

Pulling the Jeep up outside the huge, towering mansion, Stiles slumped back in his seat, staring. He'd seen many famous residences, from luxurious mansions and custom palaces to small little apartments rented for laying low and their cosiness. This though...He'd known there was supposedly a mansion, tucked away in the private forest. But this was beautiful. Huge porch, fancy cars nestled under an open garage. He'd been given the key code to the gate and directions through the sprawling land to find the house. He'd gotten lost twice but eventually made his way here, and he was still in awe as he opened the door, hopping out and making his way up the grand porch steps. He hadn't been told much. Only an address, that he'd be called as and when he was needed, and he'd be paid per hour. Nothing about who, or what kind of pet. He was madly curious as he twisted the door handle -they had said it would be unlocked for him- and stepped inside. He sucked in a sharp breath. It was all the more gorgeous on the interior. "Hello?" He called, tip-toeing further in. No barking, or cats running up, or snakes or birds. Or, on the memorable time he had to pet-sit for Johnny Depp, no horses cantering through the grand hall. "Um...I'm the pet sitter?" He tried again, voice echoing through the increasingly eerily quiet house.


	35. Teen Wolf

{Werewolves are the superior race but humans are treated nicely. Peter accidentally ended up saving Stiles' life when he killed some rogue werewolves causing trouble who were holding the sixteen year old hostage. Stiles latched onto him like an adoring puppy and stroked his ego just enough that Peter begrudgingly keeps the puppy-like boy, much to the amusement of everyone else.}

When Stiles had first arrived at the luxurious, private apartment he'd felt dirty, unbelonging. Peter had sighed, fussed about the carpet getting dirty then taken him upstairs, bathing him and gently rubbing shampoo in his hair before cleaning his wounds and stuffing him into a shirt and boxers apparently belonging to Peter's nephew. It had been a month since Peter had reluctantly agreed to take on the sixteen year old when he'd screamed the hospital down when Peter tried to leave him there. Stiles rather thought Peter had warmed up to him in that time. They ate meals together and sometimes Peter would absently stroke his hair while reading a book or watching TV, the human sat happily at his feet. Peter drew the line at sharing a bed though, scruffing him and hauling him back to his own room whenever he tried to sneak in. He didn't seem to mind Stiles waking him up in the morning though, which Stiles did religiously and lovingly every morning, bar weekends when Peter deigned to lay in. Stiles made coffee quietly, exactly how Peter liked it and tip-toed carefully into the werewolf's bedroom. He set the coffee cup on the counter and after a few tries, crawled up on the bed, half-straddling Peter and prodding at him gently. "Peter. Peter wake up. It's morning. Wake up, Peter" he yipped, practically rolling onto the older man. Peter had slept shirtless again and Stiles eyed the movement of his breathing dreamily.


	36. Teen Wolf

{Medieval/Fantasy/AU Shaman!Stiles. Wolves can shift into full wolves like form Twilight. Huge, powerful creatures well respected by all. Based off this:  
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ee/f3/0f/eef30f427a8b76260bf8ba010bc8c5de.jpg}

He could sense them long before he could see them, his eyes pure silver as he looked up and through the forest. Wolves, his senses told him. Men who walked on paws. He hadn't seen Skinwalkers -or as they haughtily preferred these days, /werewolves and lycanthropes/- in his forest since the raging fire that had burnt half the forest to ashes, and burnt half the residing pack with it. The various charms and beads and bones clinked as he moved, from sitting to crouching on one knee, gaze trained where he knew they would appear. In his right hand one of his shaman staffs, adorned with leather and shells and a large bear skull and furs kept his balance for him. He did not have to wait long for with the wind came the wolves, trotting into the clearing and halting. Stiles dipped his head, but didn't lower his gaze. "You've come a long way" he noted, eyeing them. He could sense it on them. The whispers of sands and winds from all around. "What is it you seek?" He asked after a moment, head tilting.


End file.
